This book contains a variety of people’s emotional experiences with various animals that became pets, from your typical dogs and cats, to fawn (later a deer) and to a Mexican wolf. I hadn’t read any of the Chicken soup books, figuring they’d be too maudlin & sentimental for me (do I sound like a literary snob?). And the first story did end a bit too sweetly. A widow receives a puppy, along with a letter, for Christmas from her husband who died a couple weeks ago from cancer. After crying to the new puppy she suddenly has the energy to decorate for Christmas – really – ok grief recovery is a jagged thing (up & down), and maybe the letter and the connection to her husband through the dog means a lot – h’mm.
I did like the stories overall. I also started to wonder why I have an attitude toward the Chicken soup books – they’re definitely Not highbrow (though I read scifi/fantasy, so why do I care). Are Jack London’s canine stories acclaimed because he includes a lot more detail, underlying morals, a tragic ending, or are they well thought of because he’s Jack London. I have to remember that Reading Advisers say “Never apologize for your reading tastes”.